


Glimmers

by lovedandlost06



Category: Homeland
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-11-07 06:39:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovedandlost06/pseuds/lovedandlost06
Summary: glimmernoun1. a faint or wavering light2. a faint sign of a feeling or quality, especially a desirable oneCarrie and Quinn, at their worst, reflected through the shards of a fractured funhouse mirror.





	1. Recognition

"...I'm fucking Zen!"

He dimly registered the words above the murmurings of the damaged and the deranged. He allowed himself a smirk and a glance in the direction of the outburst as he limped along the corridor. His face softened when he saw who had spoken. His eyes quickly evaluated her, discerned her fear beneath the guise of indignation and incredulity as she sat helpless, cuffed to a gurney.

He felt compelled to take another look over his shoulder as he rounded the corner in search of the orderly with whom he'd developed a negotiable understanding. Something in his chest ached as he noticed the bony protrusions of her spine between the scraps of ribbon at the neck and waist of her meagre hospital gown.

 

She flicked her blonde hair neurotically from one side to the other as she'd done since she'd been picked up at the reporter's office. It had become stringy with repeated handling these past hours. Her breath was audible as she exhaled between her teeth, favoring the admitting physician with what could pass for a smile or snarl. 

She wasn't so far gone that she hadn't noticed the man in the grey sweats glance her way, allow his gaze to linger longer than it took for one piece of human flotsam to regard another. Even after he was out of sight, she'd felt the skin at the nape of her neck prickle in a way that she knew wasn't due to the too-cool air conditioning. 

For now though, she blew out a sigh, adjusted her shoulders, forced herself to focus on the mission.


	2. Understanding

He stumbled along the corridor, his self-devised rehabilitation strategy - staying on the move, trying to outrun the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm and cripple him. He noticed a robed man ahead listening to one of the doctors as he paged hurriedly through a file, nodding grimly. The doctor checked his watch, clapped the robed man on the shoulder and they parted, the doctor making his way into a nearby conference room.

He continued limping along, arriving at the doorway in time to see all inside stand as the robed man entered through another door. His eyes settled on the woman who'd been admitted the previous afternoon, now dressed in a rumpled suit, and he realised this must be a commitment hearing. He drew back to a spot where he could observe proceedings unnoticed, certain of the outcome given what he'd witnessed prior. 

The judge hadn't even begun questioning the woman when she was on her feet, eyes wild, gasping for survival as she darted for the door. He lurched forward automatically and found the arm of a security officer braced against his chest. His jaw tightened as he watched her flail, hair whipping around as staff struggled to safely subdue her. She was hauled past him, spitting and screaming, the two people who were there to support her instead comforting each other, familial tolerance blinding them to the veracity of her denouncement of the hearing.

That evening he took up a position on a straight-backed chair where he could watch over her as she sat slumped, drugged and vulnerable, in one of the communal areas of the ward. He was unsurprised when a man of the same ilk as the one responsible for his own condition, his own presence there, was ushered to her side.

He wasn't close enough to hear the words she uttered, but he took a grim satisfaction in the resulting droop of the man's head. Her eyes met his briefly as she watched the man's dejected retreat, then she returned to her introspection and he his vigil.


	3. Awakening

She felt his gaze as she toyed with her mug of insipid coffee, the aroma of which was somehow enough to make her stomach heave if she dared do more than cradle it between her hands, where at least its warmth could leach into them.

Her glance around her confirmed his presence in the company of an orderly whose subtle attempt to speed up his labored passage belied their forced casualness.

A few minutes later she was rifling through the carelessly folded, oversized sweats in the drawers by his bed. She pulled a weathered book from beneath one of his shirts and perched on the edge of the mattress to examine it.

Inside was a series of photographs depicting a young boy from birth to early childhood, his stare in the most recent intense, familiar. She blinked back unbidden tears, her hand passing subconsciously over her belly.

 

In a janitor's closet on the floor below, he barely registered the cold of the stainless steel sink against his ass as the woman knelt between his splayed legs, working his cock with her hand, her mouth. His abdomen tensed involuntarily as his crisis drew near.

Despite her experienced technique, this time it was the uncontrollable urge to feel her soft, fair hair under his hand, savor its gleam under the harsh, fluorescent light, that ultimately triggered his release.

When the woman retrieved the can of now warm beer from inside the sink and offered him the last few gulps, he saw she was unsurprised when he declined, had somehow sensed the change in him.

He watched her pour out the dregs and discard the can, smiled fleetingly as she squeezed his arm in silent farewell and exited discreetly into the corridor.


End file.
